Strawberry Skies
by Kamotaketsunuminokami
Summary: 1925. Kiku Honda has made his way to America after a long wretched journey, landing himself on Jones' Strawberry Farm as a field hand. Here, he will meet Alfred. Here, his life will change relentlessly, beautifully, and cruelly. AmeriPan
1. Issei

**1 **_Issei_

"_All heaven and earth_

_Flowered white obliterate_

_snow … unceasing snow" _

_-Hashin_

The sun. The sun was so hot, pounding ruthlessly, digging fiercely into his back. Claws, long sharp white rays of fire, burning him. Picking under his scalp, attracted by the pure ink-black of his hair.

The strawberries before him seemed to multiply endlessly. As he picked and picked, cursing himself whenever he crushed one between his fingers - sticky fructose slippery and pink down his palm and arm bursting sweetness - the strawberries seemed to multiply. Each new one became two then four then eight and on and on. His eyes became hazy. He stood up, best he could, and glanced out towards the bright blue sky and the hazy clouds. He thought suddenly of his mother's kimono, and its soft fabric. It was just that color, with swirling clouds crawling down the sleeves. He licked his lips, tasting blood where they had cracked from the heat and dryness. Maybe, maybe if he focused hard enough he would no longer be an ocean away from home. If he shut his eyes he would fall into her arms, held, and everything would reverse. The boat ride, cruel storms, the searching and searching for somewhere he could get employed. The promise he would find his friends here, somewhere, and maybe his family too. All of it seemed fruitless out in the strawberry field.

His knees, already crouched amid the long thin leaves, buckled. They dropped him to the floor, giving up and admitting defeat against the heat.

The dirt felt profoundly soft.

. . .

When he came to, no longer on the dirt, he saw the field owner's face above him. Except, not quite. The face was far younger and softer. A piece of the sky caught around both pupils stared at him, a hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey, hey. It's ok, Mr... what's his name?"

"Kiku, I think." A woman's voice. "Not that you need a 'Mr' in there."

"Hey, Kiku! Wake up, it's ok. Looks like you had a bit of heat sickness. Sit up, I got water."

"You really shouldn't baby him."

"I'm being a decent human, or is that gone away since I left home?"

"Alfred…"

Kiku felt the curve of a glass caress his lips. He felt the water go down his throat, cool as ice. He felt how sweaty he was, now that it had gone cold in the shade. As he blinked his eyes back into focus, he saw the man he thought to be the field owner in better clarity. It was not him at all, but a young man with similar enough features. Who was this? He wasn't here in the past week Kiku had been working on Jones' Hill. Kiku didn't understand a word of what was being said to him, only that he was being talked about. The young man had sat down on the edge of the bed Kiku had somehow been brought to. He was gesticulating to a woman standing off to the side. Was that his mother?

Kiku looked between them, trying to deduce with only body language. Americans kept surprising him with how different they were!

No, Kiku didn't think this was his mother. The woman had eyes of stone for the young man, and the man's eyes held no love back. Maybe another servant? But no, she was dressed too well for that. And she was too fair, to blond and false curls and severe angles to be someone like that. Kiku held the cup tightly in his hands, worried it might crack from his nervousness.

"Your father would be infuriated!" The woman yelped. Kiku understood "father". Ah, so this young man must be the son of the field owner.

The field owner.

Kiku felt his heart began to crack. What will happen then? He won't be allowed to work on the fields if he keeps this up. He had always been a weak child since birth, but he thought he had managed to overcome his fainting spells. Apparently not, because here he was. Regardless, if Kiku did not gather himself in his hands and get stronger he would be out of a job. He would have to find something else to do, somewhere else to go.

He had come so close to being somewhere good.

"Hey! No, don't you cry. You'll be right as rain in no time! Just you wait."

Kiku felt thumbs on his cheeks. He gasped, feeling the young man's thumb rub away tears. Kiku blushed and began to apologize, bowing his head low. He pressed his fingers to his cheek, where the touch lingered and burned. Shame flooded through him, crashing against every surface inside of him.

His fate was tied up in this young man and the field owner, who would be home soon it seemed. Kiku, from listening as hard as he could, willing himself to pick up the twisty, bubbly English language in less than an hour, tried to grasp at what few clues he could.

This young man's name was Alfred.

Aru? - fu? - redu?

Arufuredu?

A_l_fred

Hold that name in your mouth, Kiku though, slowly moving his tongue to each foreign concept. None of the soft drops of sound his name made - Ki - Ku - Hon - da. Al - fred - Jo - nes.

Kiku pulled himself off the bed when Alfred stood up. Alfred turned quickly on him, planting firm hands on either of Kiku's shoulders, pushing him gently down.

"None of that! You need your rest."

Kiku felt himself plop back down. This close, Alfred smelled like soil and outside, of sun and warmth. Alfred had hair the color of wheat, maybe that's where the smell was kept, in those rolling waves? He had spectacles, too, something Kiku infrequently saw on men his age. Maybe Alfred had exceptionally poor eyesight. And behind those glasses…?

Concern, worry, and moreover - something else.

"Sit down, Kiku. Pa'll be here in a minute and I'll talk to him. Don't worry at all."

Kiku, understanding "talk" and "in a minute" nodded mutely.

After this, Alfred walked out with the strange woman. The woman trailed behind, stopping at the door. She glowered directly at him, her eyes narrowed.

"Expect nothing." She spat at him.

Kiku did not need to understand English to know what she meant. He pulled his feet under him and sat on the bed, placing his hands on his knees.

In the still room, wooden flooring and walls, a pelt of some sort on the ground, a carafe now empty on the table, a bed he sat on, nothing much else, except… He glanced at the bedside, a table, a half-open drawer. A few papers were haphazardly thrown on there under the gilded lamp. On them, in clear writing, was a name. "A" Kiku could tell, and "Jones" from the sign just outside the strawberry fields. It struck him he was in Alfred's room.

More shame doomed down upon him. He shut his eyes.

In that world, glittering after-dark, closed lids, warm darkness, memories began to pool forth. Some lotuses in dark murky waters, some snapping maws emerging, and which will he reach for? Kiku aimed for the lotus of his memory, smooth white petals. Buddha. He reached forth, cupping for a memory of his mother of his friends of O-bachan…

SNAP - and grab at his hand pulling him down.

When he was in China, bustling city. He wanted to pull away from such a memory, he felt miserable enough. But no, the longer and harder he tried to turn away the more those dark hands dragged him back down. Back into the shores of Shanghai, of paying a fare to get on a boat with the few silver coins. Not enough! Sharp biting language at Kiku, already in a torn blue and white yukata, felt further exposed. He held onto those coins which the boat captain had spat at.

He stepped back, bumping into someone else. He spun around, apologizing. The person behind him - man or woman? Delicate and fine, but with a hard small mouth and a lower, man's voice, brushed past him. He said something to the boat captain who grunted back. They both turned to Kiku. In accented, but understandable Japanese, the man pointed at Kiku. "Come on. America, yes?"

"Ah, yes." Kiku said, happy to be understood. "Yes, please."

Maybe if he stayed in the salty, Shanghai air, maybe if he stayed on those shores with fishermen he wouldn't be in his present situation.

Kiku stared down at his hands, seeing where his fingernails had been stained pink and red from strawberries, blue from dyes, and calloused all across from manual labour.

O-bachan once said he had the hands of a musician, or a painter.

Would she weep to see her son, once so high born, toiling in foreign fields under a man he did not understand?

Would O-kasan understand, too?

Does he forgive himself?

Not more than a half hour or so later, Alfred returned. He smiled warmly at Kiku and gestured behind him. One of the other field hands entered. Another Japanese woman with a stern, lined face. She looked at Kiku blankly.

"I am translating for you, Honda." No honorific. "I am Saito Maki. I work in the house."

"Thank you, Saito-san."

She turned to Alfred, who said some things rapid-fire. He was clearly excited. Kiku picked at a loose string of cloth on his shirt. He rolled it into a tight ball between his fingers.

"He wants you to be his personal assistant, in short." Saito said.

Kiku nodded.

She continued, "As you are too weak of body to work in the fields, it was decided you would do this so that you may remain employed. The generosity of Jones-sama is vast, Honda." She had her hair tied up in a bun. Strands of silver streaked up it, curling into the bundle above her head. Her temples were well-defined and stained with dark blue capillaries. "That is something from me."

Alfred grinned.

He said a few more things.

"He states you will help him tend to his horses. Maybe wash his feet while your at it."

Kiku had a feeling Alfred did not say that last bit.

When Saito was dismissed, the room felt perceptibly warmer. Kiku breathed deeply in relief.

"Weird." Alfred made a twirling motion with his finger by his head. "Sorry, Kiku. That's the best I could do for now. Help with my horses and some other things. Here, let me take you back to your quarters." He held out a hand. His fingers were perfectly trimmed and clean. This man had never worked in the fields.

Kiku raised his own stained and dry hand, taking the outstretched one and pulling himself to his feet. He let go quickly, bowing deeply.

"Thank you, Alfred." He said in his best English.

Alfred grinned, showing teeth.

Kiku felt his own heart would burst.

. . .

"Oi, Honda!"

"Hey, Honda."

"Look, it's the pet."

"Fell on your face and now you get special treatment?"

"Yeah, why don't I get that?"

"Did you seduce the _Hime-sama_, Honda?"

Kiku crept into the housing structure meant for other young, otherwise landless young men like himself. The men glanced up at him, clearly seething hostility. Most had turned shades of red and brown in the sunlight. All those faces, varying hues, looked at him now. Kiku flushed deeply. He apologized again.

He felt a sharp kick at his back and slumped forwards, landing on his knees. The joints felt hot with pain. He felt the foot, smearing mud on his shirt, push him further down.

"Weren't you royalty? Bow properly." Another shove and Kiku's forehead smacked against the wood. He felt tears form. He blinked back as hard as he could but they began to slip out nonetheless.

"What was that? Where's your apology?" Another shove, Kiku's forehead met the splintery floor again. Maybe some dug into his eyebrows. He apologized loudly and repeatedly.

When he was finally let up, the men hostile still but bored, he slowly raised his head. A few drops of blood oozed from the scrape, slipping down his nose. His breath caught in his throat and he rushed to his side of the house, to the cramped corner. He sat down and dabbed at the scrape with his shirt, seeing blood blossom on the coarse fabric.

He wanted to know _why_ they had to do that?

They hadn't been friendly since day one, when they saw high upbringing clearly labelled across his face. These were boys from the outskirts of high society, who had probably been underhanded and dismissed.

Maybe this was their way to get revenge? On some lonely past? On some mother who was beaten, on some sister who was taken?

Kiku glanced to the closest neighbor, looking at his bed. A picture lay half-tucked under the sheet. He spotted the monochrome of a painted face, with soft distant eyes glancing out. That bed belonged to the boy who had kicked him, Hideji. He wanted out as much as everyone did.

And now that no one was allowed in from Japan, they may never see their family again.

Right?

Rationalize it, Kiku! No one is cruel for pleasure, right?

Right?

Kiku lay down on the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around his body. Wishing for sleep.


	2. Softly, he Spoke

2 _Softly, He Spoke_

"In Kyoto,

Hearing the cuckoo,

I long for Kyoto" -Basho

The boarding school Alfred attended stood against a backdrop of snow-drizzled mountains and constant rain. The building, built in that corner with oak and maple, contained a handful of talented students. Below, under the rocky outcropping and receiving the most brutal snowfalls, was a separate stage for "other" students to learn and become grown, educated men. Alfred never ventured down, but his friends teased him he belonged there. Relentlessly, they pointed at the tan Alfred easily developed. In retort Alfred pointed to his blue, blue eyes.

No harm no foul, though.

That's just how boys were.

Now, having graduated, Alfred made his way back to his farmland. He sat closest to the window on that train, his heavy leather bag between his legs, leaning gently again his left knee. He rested his chin against his palms, bottle-cap lenses slipping down his nose. The blurry scenery passed by, flickering greens and golds and eventually prairie land and soon, his home would pass by. Strange how the station was beyond it. He'd have to backdrop.

Sleepiness, egging his eyes down, peace before the storm.

. . .

Kiku had absolutely no clue how to tend a horse. He ogled the massive beast before him. He'd seen them, of course, but he never was this close. He was never in such proximity to farmland before his fated journey. He stood before the beast, its golden eyes pinned lazily on him, its tail flicking. Kiku had no doubts that one solid kick to his chest would cause his lungs to rupture. He had no doubt Alfred's beloved "Rose" wouldn't turn nasty in a split second.

He sat down on a bale of hay, the straws poking through his pants. It flicked tails away with its long, white ears. Its mane, human-like blonde, rolled gently down its muscled neck.

No, she.

She glanced at him disdainfully.

She didn't like him as much as he didn't like her.

He really wished Alfred would come back. He had left him in the cramped, hot barn and said he would be back. Or at least, Kiku gathered as much. He had waved his hands before him, saying he'd be back in a "jiffy", whatever that meant.

Before that, though, Alfred had seen the bruises on Kiku's chin, cheeks, and branded across the bridge of his nose. He pointed to it, eyebrows raised.

"Accident." Kiku enunciated carefully.

Thank God Alfred hadn't seen Kiku's back. He would have had a harder time explaining it with his fistful of English words.

Alfred left after that, not asking further.

Leaving Kiku with the horse.

He eyed her careful, back against a wall. Maybe he could melt into the wood and get out of the mess altogether.

"Hey, getting along with my ol' girl?" He popped his head into the barn, leaning one strong forearm against the wall. Kiku jumped slightly, turning to face Alfred. "She being nice?" He approached them, holding his hands out and smiling warmly. He approached the massive beast, placing his hands gently on her flank, examining her legs, back, and neck. "Well, you won't be able to take proper care of her 'less you learn how to ride her and make friends." He turned to Kiku.

Kiku had a feeling he was being asked a question. He smiled and nodded in response.

"Yeah, come here." Alfred gestured for Kiku to come over. Kiku did as he was told, nervously approaching the strong, strange creature. He felt his hands quiver and made fists.

"You have to talk quietly." Alfred said, dropping his voice lower than it had been. Here peered at Kiku. Kiku noticed Alfred's flannel shirt had stains on the arms and sides. Bright pink. Strawberries? Why would he be in the field.

"Yes, sir." He whispered back.

"Let her smell you." Alfred held his hand out. Kiku allowed his hand to be taken and pulled, gentle, to the horse's warm pink nostrils. A puff of air and a snort tickled Kiku's fingernails. He focused on not yanking his hand away in fear.

Kiku felt the heat of the horse so near him. He wondered how in the world he would survive this new job.

Alfred talked for some time, demonstrating to Kiku what to do. Kiku followed best he could, grateful Alfred made grandiose, miming gestures to explain some things. He made a throaty gurgle while pointing to the horse's stomach, causing Kiku to burst into laughter unexpectedly. Alfred grinned back at him, all teeth and white.

He shook his head, making a sour face after that. He placed his ear against the horse's side, holding a hand to show he was listening. He nodded and held his thumbs up. Kiku mimicked it, smiling at the oddly childish gesture.

After an hour of this, the heat of the day slipping away into a cooler afternoon, Alfred brushed off his pants and pointed once again at the horse. "Wanna ride?"

"Ride…?"

Alfred took this as an affirmative and came forwards, easily sweeping Kiku upwards by the waist. Kiku squirmed in protest as Alfred plopped him down on the horse. Kiku gripped the horses mane in terror. Alfred shook his head, gently releasing Kiku's fisted hands.

"No, no, that hurts her." Alfred clambered on in front of Kiku, swinging his leg over and hopping on easily. The horse, good natured as she was, snorted at the sudden weight. Alfred pointed at his legs, clamping his knees across the horse's side. "You grip her like this if you're riding bare-back. Never grip her mane. Grip tight." He pushed Kiku's knees into the horse. Kiku, breathing hard, nodded at the saddle hanging against the wall.

Alfred looked over and shook his head.

"No, we do this right the first time. She hates saddles, trust me. Grab on." Alfred lifted his arms and Kiku slipped his own beneath, grasping in front. His face smashed up against Alfred's back, he could feel the bump of the spine, the strong muscles moving around, the heat of day's work as damp sweat. Kiku clung tighter as the horse began to trot forwards. Help me O-bachan!

Once in the fields, streaking past the strawberries. He could see the bobbing heads and hats of those who were supposed to be his friends. A couple heads perked up at the sound of galloping. Kiku hoped no one could see this far. He squeezed Alfred subconsciously. He felt Alfred's large, calloused, and warm hand briefly envelop his.

"Scared?"

"Ah, no. No. I am OK."

Alfred let go and directed his horse further than the fields, out towards more open land the Jones' probably didn't own. The feel and rush of air felt good, Kiku realised, perking his head up and staring around as the field grew smaller in the distance.

For some time, it was just them.

It was absolute bliss.

More gallops sounded across from then. Alfred slowed down, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. "Should have brought a hat." He muttered. He was breathing hard. Kiku loosed his knees from the horse, sending shuddering stabs of pain up his thighs. He would be sore tomorrow.

"Hey!" Alfred called cheerfully, waving his arm.

Two horses pulled up not far from them. Young men, saddled, hat-headed, and maybe Alfred's age stared down at them. One of them laughed.

"Lookee here, the redskin's picked up a mail-order bride. Didn't know you had a taste for Japs, Jones."

Japs.

Kiku turned towards them. Then wished he hadn't.

"Hey, look, Pete."

"Aw, he's a cake-eater. Not the good kind, neither."

Howling laughter.

Alfred moved his horse closer to one of the men. He stared directly at him until they were side by side. Kiku loosened his grip on Alfred, turning away, hiding his face in burning shame.

How could that not have been suspect?

His heart thundered so hard he didn't hear what Alfred said until a sudden jerk and wet meaty thud sounded. Kiku turned back, seeing the man recoiled in the saddle. His friend pulled his horse up to him.

"What's the big idea, Jones?"

The man who had been punched rubbed his jaw in anger. His eyes burned with something Kiku couldn't make out. Kiku wished he could say something. He wished he had something to say, to get Alfred out of this, to avoid further trouble.

"Pete, my friend," Alfred said, cheerful as ever. Behind each word was a stick of ice. "I happen to recall not that long ago you had some Dumb Dora slung against your arm. No surprise she got sick of you."

"I dropped that broad like yesterday's news." The one called Pete said. His words had a slight lisp to them. Maybe a tooth was broken. The other man looked at him curiously.

"No, not what you told me." Alfred shrugged, then looked at the other man. "I recall something along the lines of… 'Better man than Peter ever was'. Coming from you. But, oh well, I perhaps had it wrong this whole time." With that, Alfred turned the horse away in the direction they came from. Kiku quickly threw his arms back where they were. Behind them they heard Pete begin to yell something out, only to be cut off by the other man. "What did you do to Sally you-?"

They galloped back for some time, distant arguments lessening.. Alfred's shoulder and back muscles were pulled taut. He was shaking, vaguely.

Once they returned to the barn, Alfred slid off, holding a hand out to Kiku. Kiku grasped it, sliding down. Alfred's face indicated nothing other than regret.

"Sorry they called you that, Kiku."

Kiku waved the apology away.

"Tomorrow, you'll ride her alone. I'll come with, 'course, but I want you to get a feel for her. Don't want no stranger hopping on my ol' Sarah. Right girl?" Alfred held up a sugar cube for Sarah before leading her towards the water trough.

"Alfred-san?" Kiku said, surprising himself.

Alfred turned around, smiling. Back to what he once was, as if nothing had happened.

"What is 'red-skin' please?"

Alfred's eyes widened. "Not too sure on that one… I mean, not sure how to explain it." Alfred shrugged again. He looked down at his knuckles. The skin had not broken, but had become flushed with red where he landed the blow.

"I hate myself for doing that…" He whispered. "They trusted me, too. They were my friends."

Kiku wanted more and more to pull words of English out of thin air. He could see the pain creasing Alfred's brows, and he had nothing to say.

Alfred breathed deep, pulling himself up to full height. "Let's brush her out." He held up a horse brush, smiling nonetheless.

Smiling, nonetheless.


	3. Flightless American Bird

3\. Flightless American Bird

"Have I found you?

Flightless bird, jealous, weeping

Or lost you?

American mouth

Big bill looming"

-Iron and Wine, Flightless Bird, American Mouth

Kiku unfolded the letter as rain clattered against the tin roof. The horse whinnied in retort to the sound. The letter was from his mother.

She had written, simply, he was to choose and she would take care of the rest. She did not mention the immigration ban. She did not mention Kiku's well-being. But she meant all of it.

Three grainy photographs were attached to the letter. He pulled each on out, examining them.

Three different women. Two nearly identical: tall, thin-lipped, formal kimono. One was a bit cuter, smaller, and smiling at the camera. Kiku examined her photo more acutely.

He felt he knew her.

Did he really have to choose, he thought? He imagined his mother back home, showing off pictures of Kiku and insisting he had a plot of land, a strawberry farm in America, and would be able to take care of any woman no matter her needs.

Kiku glanced again at the three silent women watching him. Expecting so much. Kiku wondered if it would be best to just say no and face his mother's silent wrath for months on end until she decided to send new pictures. Surely these women wouldn't wait around so long.

But Kiku had nothing. He looked down at himself rather hopelessly, seeing his farm pants now stained with mulch and mud. His shirt tattered from the horse's incessant nips, for she hadn't begun to trust him fully quite yet.

Could he make any of them happy? He thought. With himself? No, what kind of woman would take to a small man who lived in the horse barn because back in the communal living spaces he faced assault every time he came back. He tried coming late and waking early, earlier even than the farmhands, and failed miserably. He woke to a sharp stab of pain as "CHEATER" was carved in Kanji on his upper arm. He rubbed that spot now, still tender and healing. Alfred hadn't been in town to notice, thankfully. Otherwise he couldn't use "accident" as an excuse effectively.

For now he was stuck in the stifling summer heat trapped in a barn, with a horse, and with only his own thoughts. He snuck some clothes away in the middle of the night and hid them here. Upside was that Mr. Jones both popped in early and saw Kiku tending the horse. Hardworking, that one. He's say. That was three days ago. He hadn't seen Mr. Jones since then, nor had he seen Alfred since he taught him to tend the horse and ride on it. He didn't know where Alfred went.

But that was ok.

"So da na…" he muttered. The horse whinnied in agreement.

. . .

O-Kasan

Kiku paused, the back of his mother's letter on his knee, a pen he was given tapping his chin.

I am sorry to say I cannot accept this at this time. If anyone was to come I do not have land nor home prepared to house anyone suitably. Anyone who is to arrive would be faced with marked disappointment.

Perhaps in a year I will be able to do this. Please do not have them wait for me. Let them seek someone else.

I hope you and Obachan are doing well.

Honda Kiku

There. Kiku set his pen down and examined the note. He could probably get this to the post office after tomorrow's morning horse-tending ritual Alfred had shown him. Be nice to the horse, maybe a treat, give her a few pats, groom her… Kiku's stomach growled. Maybe he could sneak an apple to himself? He deserved that much. He crept over to the barrel of apples and, before he could reach in, the barn door cluttered open. Kiku pulled back and stood like a frightened rabbit.

Alfred has pushed in, grinning at his horse.

"Hey ol girl how are you…?" He turned, noticing Kiku. "Why're you here so late, buddy?"

Alfred wore a bomber jacket, leather faded at the elbows and shoulders, and beneath a slightly open dress shirt. Kiku could see the dip if his neck, sun tanned hairless flesh. Alfred seemed a bit disarrayed but otherwise sober, Kiku thought. He sniffed the air, tasting for alcohol. He had seen Mr. Jones stumble to the farm in a drunken daze, say a few words, and trundle back to his wife.

Kiku stared at Alfred, trying to process what was asked of him.

"Ah, make friend. Try to make friend with horse." Kiku said quickly.

"Ok sure, but this late?"

"Yes, old Japanese legend."

"Hm, ok, but if you need a place to sleep… wait don't you have a bed? Did they bully ya out of it cause you're hanging with the old Indjin…?" Alfred suddenly became tearful. He exhaled and dropped down, and Kiku could smell faint beer. Kiku made his way to Alfred carefully, hands raised as if he was approaching a horse. He made small shushing noises, touching the larger man's shoulder lightly.

"God, I wish I knew something? I was Pa would just tell me one fucking thing about who I am! I hate being a kid. I'm 18! I'm old enough for this shit, man." Alfred cried into his palms. His fingernails were crusted with dirt. Kiku wordlessly kept his palm of Alfred, feeling heat-like prickles roam down his flesh. He hardly understood Alfred anyway, but he was quickly getting better. With the sob-soaked mumbles Kiku understood close to nothing. He slid his hand down Alfred's shoulder, landing at the elbow, and squeezed the old leather. "And now they're calling you all sorts of shit. And hell, I like you!"

"I like you Alfred." Kiku said. "You are a good man."

"No not… well, whatever, it don't matter one way or a nother. I'm fucked is all." Alfred's fiction became increasingly more difficult to understand. Kiku grasped at words he had heard before, struggling to piece it together.

But, he did not need to be fluent to hear the distress.

He had been told that Alfred had finished boarding school with high hopes, by one of the maids who worked in the estate, and came out smooth-talking and friendly. Then someone somewhere mentioned that Alfred was a bastard son of some unknown woman and Mr. Jones. Hell broke loose. Riding on the horse with Alfred that day was just short of a mistake. The estate explained it away as Kiku learning. What else would it be, Kiku asked. The woman sighed.

Who knows? She said back, folding another one of Mrs. Jones' dresses. She must have had a million of them. All I know is that he doesn't get along with any nearby school boys. You're his only friend, I was told. Mr. Jones is seeking a wife for him.

King had not yet received the letter from his mother when he asked the girl, her name was Maru, and so he had nothing to say back except his own family would do the same. And that they do.

Now, trying his best to comfort the weeping man with as minimal touches as humanly possible, Kiku glanced over his shoulder at the letter laying neatly on the haystack. Alfred would never marry a Japanese girl, not even mentioning a picture bride, but maybe…?

Maybe Alfred was so lonely, and that's why he was half-drunk and crying near his horse.

Maybe Kiku could ask around and see what kind of woman is single and looking! He smiled at Alfred who continued to look away.

What a brilliant idea! He praised himself.

He ignored the fact that it made him kind of sad. He wasn't sure why. His heart clenched at the thought of Alfred with someone else. He ignored it and turned his focus to helping his friend.

His only friend.

. . .

"Why are you showing me these girls…?" Alfred asked.

Kiku pointed excitedly at the three pictures, feeling like a carbon copy of his own mother mixed with a crazed, matchmaker aunt. The three photos were snagged from estate girls who worked around the city. Kiku had snuck his way to meet each of these women when he went to town, seeking fresh apples for the horse. Most of the maids disregarded him. Some even seemed excited, their own mistresses lonely, probably.

Alfred looked at the images. Different girls. One plump with a lovely, kind face. One thin and elegant and with an obsession for collections dolls. Still one more, tiny and mouse-like and overall very difficult to start a conversation with. Different as possible, Kiku wanted, so he could find the right girl.

Alfred blushed furiously as Kiku tripped and tumbled through English in an attempt to force his point across.

"Oh god is this because of last weak, Kiku?"

"You are lonely, yes? Marriage will help."

"Kiku I don't want to… marry…" Alfred winced.

"Not good?" Kiku's smile fell. Had he really, after all this work, not found anything that pleased him? What would his aunt do?

Kiku felt he really wasn't cut out for this line of work.

"No! They're all lovely, but why?"

"You are lonely! You cry because you are lonely."

"Well, yes but…"

Kiku looked at Alfred expectedly.

Alfred sighed hugely. "Ok, I'll meet them. Will that get you to stop?"


	4. Looking

4\. Looking

"Vesuvius

I am here

You are all that I have"

\- Sufjan Stevens

He was wrong, he had to be wrong. How was what he was doing in any way right? Here, in the middle of the night air blowing so sweet, his horse galloping hard like the beating of his young heart. Off over prairies and the prickly grasses that find their home under the outcroppings where some shade lay. His horse expertly maneuvered over each one, nostrils flaring in tiny white clouds as the air grew chiller and its body grew warmer. Alfred leaned forwards, his calf and quad muscles pulling taut like ropes as he urged her to go ever faster.

He felt terrible. He felt awful, tormented, a bird in a cage who loves his owner.

He went into the barn that evening, his days of courting going absolutely miserably - Well, simply put, he wasn't interested.

He wasn't interested in the tall, gaunt one's doll obsession. Handmade dolls, too. Each frill painstakingly stitched, the name of each doll embroidered on the back of their underpants (why do dolls need underpants, anyway?), their bonnets made from real baby bonnets. Most of all, the hand-painted, glassy-eyed stare. Alfred nodded politely as the girl told him about here life's obsession in perfectly flat monotone. Alfred nodded and nodded until he felt the muscles in his face contract, twisting with discomfort as she brought forth her semi-favorite one for him to examine. Oh, but look at the time! He said, whistling, and clumsily made his way out. She seemed disappointed. Definitely not obviously so, but a twinge of her flat mouth and downward gaze seemed to speak magnitudes - but for what? He clearly didn't care about what he said. Alfred considered this briefly as he left her luxurious home out by the end of the orchards.

The thought chilled him, and he moved to the next picture, shuffling the photographs between his fingers like playing cards. Who to play next? What hopes to raise for no reason? Alfred thought of Kiku, the thought like a dagger etching down his mind, and he continued on.

It would make him happy, right, if he at least tried?

The next girl was no better. The slightly larger, homely one. She was sweet and kind and had the voice of a songbird. But it didn't matter. Alfred's eyes slid right over her and back to his hands. Back to his short fingernails, to the dirt beneath the whites, stuck there no matter how many times he scrubbed. Polite company did not have such dirty fingers, he thought, over and over. He wasn't even polite company! He knew his past (what bits he could gather). He knew his family (hardly). He didn't belong in the stereotype of rich suitor just from boarding school, educated, ready to make his next step on the strawberry farm as the next landlord so his father could retire in modest comfort - but still, his fingernails were dirty. The girl dismissed him much more quickly than Alfred expected. She missed have sensed his disinterest.

Finally, the mousy girl with hardly a word to say, hid behind a fluttering hand.

Alfred left quickly, hoping to escape the nightmare as fast as he could. As he left, maybe, maybe she said something to his back. Alfred smiled over his shoulder and waved.

Well, why did Kiku have to choose such queer ladies? Every girl had a blight, bright as the sun. Every girl clearly wanted his money, his appearance, not him. None would ever see him as clearly as Kiku saw through him.

So here he was, out in the open, his jacket rustling in the wind. He held the reigns on his horse tightly, feeling her strong muscles glide beneath him. He had taken her from the barn, in such a frenzied panic, he did not notice Kiku sleeping soundly on a pile of hay and under a ratty blanket. He did not notice the half finished letter laying limpy on an upturned crate made into a table. The oil lamp was still glowing softly.

Well, he had, but he didn't think much about it. He had taken a long walk after meeting with the girls most of the afternoon. He had gone through the backstreets of the small town. He visited shops without buying anything. He considered purchasing some chocolates from the grocer to share with Kiku, but he wasn't sure Kiku even liked chocolates. He had to have, doesn't everyone like chocolates? Alfred bargained with himself until he realised it was a quarter past 6 and the shop was closed. It didn't matter what he chose, so he kept walking. Through the tree grove in the middle of the town. To the mostly empty train station. To the horse field where jockeys raced in preparation for the next tournament. All until the sun set and night began to rise like a purple bruise blossoming across the sky. All to waste time. Still, he could not get his head clear. More and more panic jostled inside of his cells and bones, edging him to move. Edging him to do something.

Now, with the open air and beautiful sound of thumping hooves, he paused to think. For once. Alfred veered his horse to a stop, suddenly, near the thin finger of a river. He allowed her to drink and graze, sliding off her back with a dusty thump onto the ground.

Why was Kiku in the barn? Alfred had a sneaking suspicion that the small man didn't sleep in the quarters with the other farmhands. In fact, he wanted to ignore it best he could, so as to avoid conflict. If Kiku had more comfort in the dirty, but warm, barn then who was Alfred to judge? There must be more to the story.

Alfred sat down by the stream, watching his horse out of the side of his eye, watching her shake her beautiful mane. Alfred turned his gaze up towards the sky, each star a pinprick leaking heaven on to his dust earth.

No, he couldn't leave. He didn't even know where he was going.

"If I go there, I have to have him with me. Who else would be there for him?"

His horse whinnied in response.

"I agree, girl. We gotta go back."

. . .

Kiku woke with a start at around midnight. Something was wrong. He clambered off the hay, long needles poking out of his hair. He blinked sleep out of his eyes, pushing the blanket off of him with a clatter. Kiku stumbled off of his pretend bed, pushing towards the center of the barn. He plucked the hay off of him as he moved, seeking the problem.

Abundantly clear what it was, then. The horse was missing. Kiku gasped, heart stopping for a minute as if he had reached in to still it - still it so he could hear better. To hear her usual snuffling or snorting. Her tail thumping against her back legs. Her nostrils flaring, He had grown used to the animal and was familiar with her movements.

He was no jockey, but he was certainly attuned to the gentle beast.

Kiku opened the barn doors, relieved by a rush of cold air offsetting the warmth of the barn. "Horse?" He called out, looking out into the fields. The strawberries rustled in the cooling wind. The stars glittered in the heavens like gems. Kiku looked towards all sides, clutching at his chest. The air was cool, but still could not contain the warmth from the barn, pushing against his back and down his legs. The draw of sleep lulled him weakly. The panic of finding the missing horse pushed him far more strongly than that, however.

Where could she have gone? Kiku knew he fed and watered her. He knew she wasn't keen on galloping away, even when Alfred went on rides with her. Alfred…

Kiku turned back to the barn, sure that Alfred had taken her, only to be splashed with heat and a shower of sparks. He stumbled backwards, falling on his tailbone with a jaw-jarring jolt. A long wooden rod had fallen from the roof of the barn, tumbling in front of him in a crumble of ash and spitting embers.

It was on fire. Real fire, tongues of flame licking up towards the sky, creeping out against the drying autumn grass. Maybe the grass towards the farm would be wet enough, still holding onto dew, that it would not catch.

But what had - the lamp! Kiku had never snuffed it. He had fallen asleep mid-letter.

He was the worst caretaker.

Kiku got to his feet, ignoring the pain in his hands and legs, and backed up as quickly as he could. He heard gallops in the distance, causing him to stumble again. The fire had caught up under his feet, burning the hay he had dropped in short spurts, eventually catching on to his pant legs. He shook his leg, trying to get the infant flame off.

The horse galloping grew more intense, ba-dump, ba-dump, a frightened heartbeat. Alfred pulled up short next to Kiku, Kiku threw up his head to see.

And he was grabbing him by the arms-

And he was hoisted behind the horse-

And he was being carried away, in the opposite direction -

"Your family! The farm!" Kiku gasped out, wincing at the pain in his hands and feet. He squeezed Alfred's back more tightly.

"Don't worry about it!" Alfred cried back. "It should go out on its own."

"Where" Kiku panted, "...going?"

"Well, I was gonna look for a more opportune time to ask you to come with me, such as the morning, but it looks like fate decided to trickle in before I could wait." Alfred sounded giddy, exhilarated.

Kiku responded to what he could hear and understand. "What? Go?"

"I want to find my mom. Will you come with me?"

"I…"

Should he stay? Stay here in the farmlands where his kinsmen would throw the bad strawberries at him? Send letters to his mother once a month. Send letters to his grandmother. Deny picture brides guiltily. Watch as the world churned and changed and he stayed in the same spot, Stay where the most exciting thing was Alfre-no, well…

Kiku stopped his thoughts and peered over at Alfred. The honey blond hair whipped back. He seemed so free. He felt so free. Kiku found himself grinning.

Despite everything, here he was.

And he was going to help Alfred.


End file.
